


gray henleys and fluffy purple socks

by AlexiaBlackbriar13



Series: lexi's summer sizzle fics [4]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: But then Oliver very enthusiastically gives permission, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Olicity Summer Sizzle, Pregnant Felicity Smoak, Romantic Fluff, Season/Series 07, Sharing Clothes, So it IS sharing, Teasing, Well its more borrowing without permission, stealing clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-24 07:45:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19719274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexiaBlackbriar13/pseuds/AlexiaBlackbriar13
Summary: Felicity and Oliver have taken to sharing their clothes recently since discovering she’s pregnant.Well - it’s not really sharing. It’s very one-sided and originating from Felicity, and it’s more stealing than anything else.





	gray henleys and fluffy purple socks

**Author's Note:**

> for the sharing clothes prompt on the olicity summer sizzle bingo card 3 xx
> 
> hope you enjoy!

Felicity and Oliver have taken to sharing their clothes recently since discovering she’s pregnant.

Well - it’s not really sharing. It’s very one-sided and originating from Felicity, and it’s more stealing than anything else. She likes to argue that it’s borrowing without permission, not stealing, which makes Oliver laugh, because aren’t they the same thing? She insists that it’s not serious ‘stealing’ either. Most days, it’s just her invading his wardrobe to wear his shirts and sweaters. She claims that they’re warmer than any of her clothes and when Oliver suggests that she just wear a blanket instead of one of his sweaters, since she only wears his clothes when they’re having relaxing days and evenings at home, Felicity huffs and complains that he needs to be more considerate towards his wife, since she’s carrying his spawn.

Oliver doesn’t actually mind Felicity wearing his clothes. He thinks it’s incredibly endearing; she always looks adorable snuggled up in one of his oversized hoodies, practically swimming in it with the sleeves too long for her arms. His wife is near the end of her first trimester of pregnancy so doesn’t have a proper baby bump yet, but one of Felicity’s debate points is that his huge sweaters will hide that for as long as they continue to keep their friends and family in the dark about the baby.

He’s content to let her do whatever she wants with his clothes.

Until the day he arrives home from an exhausting day working with arrogant and hypocritical SCPD officers, and finds Felicity waiting for him wearing his favorite gray Henley - and only the gray Henley.

“That’s not fair,” he says tiredly.

She shoots him an innocent look. “What’s not?”

He sighs. “You. You never play by the rules.”

“Is there a rule about this sort of thing?” Felicity asks, sidling up to him.

Whether she intends it or not, her movements are seductive and Oliver pinches the bridge of his nose and grits his teeth when his pants to tighten in response. Goddammit. She’s such a tease. He tries to remain completely still as his wife strokes her fingers delicately across his collarbones and shoulders. One of her bare thighs slips between his knees, causing the archer’s breath to hitch. He shudders as she slides her hands underneath his coat lapels, pushing the garment off so it drops forgotten behind him. Well - almost forgotten.

“That coat’s cashmere,” he murmurs, as Felicity’s lips caress the length of his neck. “I - I can’t leave it on the floor.”

“Your very horny pregnant wife has been waiting for you to come home _all day_ so she can make love to you and you’re worried about your _coat?_ ” Felicity purrs.

A lump has formed in Oliver’s throat. He keeps his eyes very firmly aimed at either the ceiling, the wall behind Felicity, or his wife’s forehead. Because his Henley is hanging extremely low, revealing a large portion of her chest to him - and he knows that she’s picked this particular sweater on purpose just because of that - and her mouth looks so luscious that she’s practically begging him to kiss her. Not to mention her eyes, which are beautifully blue with pupils wide and dark from her desire. He desperately wants to tear her out of the Henley and ravish her on the couch, and his body is reacting to his thoughts with flickers of deep-seated heat licking through his veins, but there’s a problem. They _can’t_ lose themselves in each other tonight.

As if sensing his hesitation and dismay, Felicity pulls back with a frown, tugging one of the shoulders of the sweater up to cover her exposed skin. Oliver resists the urge to whine and tug her back into his personal space. “What’s wrong?” she questions worriedly.

“We can’t,” he says, downhearted. “I’m meant to be going on a stake-out tonight with Dinah and some of the other recruits to teach them about short distance surveillance. I told her I’d only be coming home for twenty minutes to cook dinner for us both before heading over to the location.”

“Oliver, twenty minutes is plenty enough.”

It is. They’ve had quickies in five minutes before, when the situation calls for it, in a variety of different places. His favorite was when he’d brought her to orgasm in 285 seconds using only his fingers on Felicity’s desk in her old Palmer Tech CEO office.

He shakes his head. “But you need to eat a good meal and - you deserve so much longer than just twenty minutes of my distracted attention. I’m so sorry. I don’t even know when I’m going to be back later.” Oliver kisses her, the apology bittersweet on his lips.

Felicity looks disappointed, but nods understandingly. She vanishes into their bedroom briefly to pull on panties and a part of pajama shorts while Oliver whips up a quick dinner for them both: pan-seared lemon and coriander trout with an arugula and radish side salad, and crunchy garlic bread croutons. The salad and croutons only need to be plated, since he made them yesterday night, and the fish doesn’t take long to cook at all. They eat side by side at the breakfast bar rather than at the table, as that’s currently covered with Smoak Tech paperwork and ARCHER patent documents. They manage a five-minute conversation about their baby’s habit of punching the heck out of Felicity’s bladder before Oliver has to go.

“Wait!” Felicity calls, as he shrugs his coat back on and heads for the door. She hurries over to the couch, stooping to pick something up, before padding back over to him. Oliver breaks out into a grin when she offers him her favorite pair of glittery purple fluffy socks. “I know how cold it can get on those stupid stake-outs. These will keep your feet warm.”

He pulls them on over his normal socks before worming his feet carefully into his boots. “Thank you,” he says, giving her a grateful peck on the lips.

“You could thank me in a different way when you get back,” she suggests, quirking her eyebrow with a small smirk.

Oh, does he wish that he could. The archer wishes he could kiss Felicity more, maybe hoist her legs up over his hips and carry her into the bedroom where he can more thoroughly express his appreciation for her, but judging by the texts that are pinging through on his cell phone, he’s already late meeting up with Dinah.

Curling his fingers into the rim of his Henley, that hangs to his wife’s mid-thigh, he tells her in a husky voice, “I promise you when I get back, we’ll strip you down to just this Henley, like you greeted me earlier, and I will thank you in a dozen more ways for more than just your fluffy socks. I’ll thank you for simply existing to be in my life. For giving me a chance at happiness. For being so strong and brave to carry our child.” His hands glide over her flat stomach, where he imagines it will soon bloat as the baby continues to grow and thrive inside of her womb.

“Oh, good,” she whispers. “Because the fluffy socks aren’t really that big of a deal, you know. But all those other things kind of are. You don’t mind that they’re purple and glittery, do you?”

“Are you kidding? They’re perfect,” Oliver smiles, resting his forehead lightly against hers. “Everybody will know that my wife loves me so much she sent me out wearing her socks to make sure my feet are kept all toasty.”

Felicity laughs. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“And you don’t have to strip me down _right_ when you get back,” Felicity adds. “Because I imagine it’ll be some ridiculous time like four in the morning, and I would like to sleep in until at least eleven tomorrow, thank you. But you can absolutely sex me up after you make me caramel waffles for breakfast.”

He chuckles, amused. “Only after?”

“Hey, don’t ever get between a girl and her waffles. Especially when that girl is eating for two.”

“Gotcha.” He kisses her sweetly again one last time before opening the door by reaching behind him. “Don’t go to bed too late, baby. I’ll check in just before midnight to make sure you’ve gone to sleep.”

Felicity agrees with a short jerk of her head. “And you’re okay with me wearing your Henleys and other clothes now?” she asks shyly.

“Oh, I am _most definitely_ okay with it.” She can steal his clothes whenever she wants if she’s not going to wear anything else but those clothes around him.

Felicity wraps one of her woven woolen scarves around his neck as he steps away, fussing over him a little bit more before he departs. Oliver leaves his wife wearing his Henley, while wearing her socks and scarf.

Yeah, he can admit that they share clothes. It’s not always one-sided. And it’s not technically stealing because it’s borrowing _with_ permission; he’s happy for her to wear his clothes whenever she wants.

As long as he gets to wear her fluffy socks on stake-outs.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading xx
> 
> twitter: @lexiblackbriar  
> tumblr: @alexiablackbriar13


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